Glass House
by OnyxFeather
Summary: The constant struggle of a young, fair-haired man and the conflicts he experiences within. Now that his perfect world has disappeared amongst the shadows, he finds himself to be alone, caged behind the glass walls of his soul. (An interpretation of Draco Malfoy's sixth year)


Hi, I tried to write it as a one-shot, but it seemed better as a poem. Never punctuated a poem before, so I may have exercised some artistic license. I literally just went wherever my muse took me. Just consider it as a bit of an experiment. Let me know what you think. Will it be better as a one-shot? (I will probably write one anyway, because I love the concept of Draco's story.) Most importantly, did it make sense?

The poem was intended as a representation of his experiences/thoughts during his 6th (maybe even 7th) year, rather than the idea that he has written this poem.

(As fanfiction wouldn't allow me to double-space, I've had to think of more imaginative ways to separate my stanzas!)

**Disclaimer: I do not own the HP characters.**

* * *

><p>~xxx~<p>

**Glass House**

A world, with crystal chandeliers

And polished, marble floors.

Standing tall,

In all its gold grandeur.

It told me I was special,

Privileged above the rest.

~.~

No more.

~.~

The marble has turned clear

And the walls of the castle are starting to thin.

So sharp are the edges now,

I must tread carefully.

Tip-toeing across the transparent floor,

Black figures looking upon me.

Goading me,

Mocking me;

Waiting for me to fail.

~.~

My mother stands among them,

Trapped behind the spears

They have drawn to enclose her.

She watches me from afar –

Black tear-tracks staining her face.

~.~

There is no mention of my father,

As if he is forgotten.

His name holds no worth

Upon the weakening bonds of our home.

~.~

There is a man in the distance,

I looked upon him once in awe –

Idolised him.

Now he is a traitor.

He attempts to smother me

With his false righteousness,

But I will not be fooled.

I turn away from him,

Yet little do I know

That I just lose myself further,

In this maze of hard, gleaming sheets.

~.~

The world around me is a blur.

I can touch it, but I feel apart from it.

Its meaning has changed;

The usual things are now mundane.

I lock myself away in my mind.

I have a plan.

I am determined to save my home

And restore its shine.

~.~

A single crack materialises in the window –

How do I do this?

How do I get through, before it all collapses inwards?

I cannot give in,

But some days are hard.

My will falters

And the glass starts to break.

A pointed web has formed across

My once perfect home.

All I see now is multiple versions

Of my reflection. I hate it.

~.~

The water stings my eyes,

As they burn from the heat of my despair.

The world that I had built was all a lie.

A grand illusion.

~.~

Now I stand here, upon this tower.

I managed to plaster the cracks,

The glass is caving, but it hasn't smashed.

Then I look at those blue-eyes –

I don't see ice.

I see the sky;

I sense freedom and warmth.

But I can't allow myself to feel it;

I won't let it penetrate the glass.

~.~

Yet the glass house is still shaking,

Why won't it stop? I am tired of its weight.

My strength is fading….

~.~

The wise man makes me think.

Maybe I should let go;

Allow it to shatter,

Turn to powder, and build a new one.

At least the pain, may then stop.

But how can I do that when I'm all alone?

For the man can't see

The cloaked men that surround me,

Blocking my way.

I cannot fight them all –

I must protect the glass house for my family.

~.~

Maybe I'm destined to live here.

Trapped in this glass house of my own making,

Forged centuries before, by my fore-bearers.

Nailed so sharp in the ground,

It buries me –

Cutting into my back,

Scratching against my delicate skin,

And turning it raw.

But still, it refuses to fall.

~.~

The large shadows continue to bore down on me.

I have stopped struggling now.

I merely sit here silently,

Staring through the ceiling to the night –

The eternal night.

The glass prickling my skin –

I hardly feel it anymore.

For there is little light left to find

And even the glass house has turned opaque,

Drenched in deep red.

~.~

The path is lost.

At times I spot a small glimmer,

Peeking through the lines that mark its jagged walls.

It extinguishes quickly.

~.~

Though it has lost its former glory

And suffocates me slowly;

It remains, home.

~xxx~


End file.
